You're Gonna Go Far, Kid
by muentiger
Summary: The War is over, and Pansy faces the greatest test of her life so far. What happens when Theo decides to be the face of the first human life she has to save? And why is she stabbing a chicken? Response to SkyeElf's challenge.


**A/N: 4 hours before the deadline, I finally finish this. Well, to explain, this is in response to a challenge given to me by me highly insane, but amazingly brilliant friend SkyeElf. The prompt called for a Pansy/Theo one-shot, revolving around their relationship after the war. Pansy is slightly OOC, but since she isn't mentioned all that much, I was given artistic freedom to do with her as I wished. And so, naturally, she is exactly like me. A slight mention of Evil!Ron, if that is ever used, as well as hint towards a possible Harry/Hermione insinuation, though only if you squint. This story is slightly based on the song, "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid" by The Offspring, but mainly because I love the song. This is for my sisters, Leanna and Corneli.**

When the war ended, my world changed. As a Slytherin of pure blood, I was immediately taken to the Ministry for questioning. My father, my mother, my brother, they were all gone. Dead in Battle. I was alone.

At my trial, no one stepped forward. All of my friends had disappeared into obscurity. But I was lucky. Shacklebolt knew of my defection from the Dark Side, and he set me free.

I returned to Hogwarts for my final year and immersed myself in work. The library became my safe haven, and I was joined by the most unlikely of people. Hermione Granger simply sat at my table one day, and continued to do so, until I finally asked her why she was bothering to join her former enemy. With a sigh, she finished scribbling out her sentence before glancing at me, gnawing characteristically at her lip.

"You didn't do anything. If anything, you helped us defeat him. You deserve a friend just as much of the rest of us," she replied sagely, a slight blush gracing her face. I grinned in response, and we returned to our work. As the year went by, we grew closer, and I confided everything to her. In return, she became my confidante, my academic equal, but most of all, a true friend.

Upon our graduation, Hermione and I took a flat in downtown London, whilst she trained for a career in Magical Law, and I began my education into Healership. Potter and Weasley were too immersed in their Auror studies to truly care about Hermione's fraternizations with me, a fact that I knew had wounded her beyond belief.

It was Friday morning, and I awoke early to review for a practical exam. To most apprentices, today was referred to as D-Day. The first time any of us would actually practice on a living human being. Those that failed left the program, while those that shined were guaranteed a shot at a prestigious job in St. Mungo's. Though the profession came naturally to me, I continued practicing frantically, researching both Muggle and Wizarding methods. Grumbling slightly, I poured myself a cup of coffee, before being startled by a soft crying noise behind the bathroom door. _Hermione didn't come home last night..._

"Hermione?" I asked, snatching my wand from the table.

"Who is it?" she whimpered in response, the sounds of her sorrow suddenly imperceptible to human ears.

"Pansy, you ninny. I live here, remember?" I replied, crossing my arms unconsciously in front of my chest. Straining my ears, I heard her chuckle, causing a small smirk to appear on my lips.

"Morning, Pans. I hope I didn't wake you," she said, and I rolled my eyes, reaching forward to open the door. It was locked, by spells and manual methods.

"Nonsense, Granger. I have a practical today," I retorted, and she snorted.

"Goodness, I forgot. If you need it, there's a chicken in the fridge you can practice on. Just don't leave the needles in next time," she stated bluntly, and I strongly considered breaking down the door with a Muggle bomb. Like they did in those action movies I forced Hermione to show me.

"Hermione, as charming as I find talking to you through a wooden door, I'd much prefer knowing what the hell is going on. Open the door," I ordered. After several seconds of silence, she opened the door, and I couldn't help but gasp.

She was still in her clothes from last night, but they were perfectly intact. Her face was a different story. It quickly became apparent that she had gone all-out, a thing she rarely did, as Hermione hated makeup with a passion rivalling that of a thousand fiery burning suns. Over the course of the night, it had smudged something awful, streaks of green and bronze now gracing her pink cheeks. Her shoulders were shaking with sobs, and she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me tightly. Granger never cried. Sighing deeply, I pocketed my wand and led her over to the sofa, where she practically threw herself into the pillows.

"Stay here," I commanded her, and I walked swiftly into the kitchen, pouring her a cup of coffee. By the time I had finished with it, it would have made any diabetic go into shock, but that was the general idea. Hermione took her coffee with half a cup of mocha-flavoured cream, three tablespoons of sugar, and whipped cream with chocolate syrup on top. As a child, she had never been able to nurture a prominent sweet tooth, and she explained to me that this was her way of making up for it. Personally, I preferred my coffee black, but with a hint of peppermint essence. It tasted odd to most, but I loved it.

I handed her the cup, and she shot me a watery grin, taking a big gulp of the concoction.

"Scourgify," I muttered, removing the makeup from her face with an effortless flick of my wand.

"Thanks," she mumbled, curling up into a ball on the sofa. Narrowing my eyes, I summoned my Healer's bag and the chicken from the fridge. Opening the bag, I pulled out a knife and stabbed it swiftly in the breast. I caught her eyes widen as I began removing various implements from the pouch.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to use Veritaserum?" I began, casually inspecting the chicken for inevitable interior damage.

"We don't have any Veritaserum," she retorted smugly, and I glared at her skeptically.

"You underestimate me. It just so happens that I carry some with me at all times. However, it is in perfume form. Quite useful, in case I ever do need to get a patient history," I replied calmly, drawing a needle and thread from my kit. Taking a deep breath, I began sewing together chicken's aorta, which I had cleft in two.

"I can think of many other uses than just patient histories, Pans," she grinned, and I merely stared at her. She blanched profoundly, recalling my biggest secret. "Sorry," she mumbled, taking another sip from her mug.

"It's fine, 'Mione. But please tell me what happened to you!" I pleaded, my pale amethyst eyes widening in attempt to plead with her. She sipped her coffee thoughtfully, before setting it down on the table and turning to me.

"I received an invitation to the Burrow yesterday. It was Ron's birthday, and he wrote me a not about how he missed me, and how he needed to see me. As you can guess, I was ecstatic. Several hours later, I took the Floo into their living room. Everyone was happy to see me, and I was nearly smothered with hugs. And then I saw Ron. He was standing off to the side a bit, his arm wrapped possessively around the waist of one Lavender Brown," she recounted, and I raised an eyebrow.

"But you knew they'd been dating," I stated carefully, and a sob caught in her throat.

"Yes, I knew. As the night continued, however, so did the influx of alcohol. We were all pissed drunk. The subject of conversation turned to my sex life. Of course, everyone laughed hysterically at the idea that, I, Hermione Granger, could ever truly be loved-in that department. And any department, if I recall. Lavender took it even farther, and all he did was laugh. Finally, he spoke up. 'Who would want to date the bland, ugly bookworm anyway?' It's sounds so stereotypical, but-" she cut off, burying her head in her hands yet again. For once in my life, I was utterly speechless. How could he be capable of such blatant cruelty?

I set down the chicken, perfectly, stitched up again on the table and packed my bags.

"Where is he?" I asked her simply, and she looked at me in fear.

"Pans...why do you need to know?" she retorted, the fire returning to her eyes as she sensed the beginning of an argument.

"Well, I need a location in order to send my personal assassin after him!" I told her, and she laughed hoarsely.

"You don't have a personal assassin," she pointed out, rising to her feet to put away the chicken.

"No...but I do have an owl, and all the ingredients necessary for an Emasculation Draught," I commented in return, sitting myself on the counter to sip at my coffee.

Hermione grinned in response, and sat herself on the counter beside me.

"Thanks Pansy, but that's not needed. Molly was sober, and I'm sure she'll take care of it," she replied, though her face was still melancholy.

"You don't actually believe what he said, do you?" I asked her after a while, and she looked at me as though I were insane.

"It's the truth, so why deny it? The only guys that want to date me are those who are simply striving for a minute in the limelight. And I'm not just looking for sex, for a momentary distraction. I want someone I can actually be with," she answered me, her voice heavy with sorrow. I bit the inside of my cheek in thought, pondering my words with great care before turning to her.

"You listen to me, Hermione Jean Granger, because I'm only going to say this once. Ronald Weasley is an arrogant prick. He isn't worth all of this! That having been said, he would have made an excellent Slytherin," I began, and she sent me a quizzical look, begging for me to continue.

"For years you have been his best friend. I'm convinced that he loved you at some point too. But, under the mop of red hair and blemished visage, he is still a man. He is threatened by you, because he knows that you hold major leverage over him. Without you, Weasley would have never passed first year, much less his Auror exams. He is fully aware of this fact, and he hates the fact that you will always be superior to him in that aspect. You may preach on for days about how he was needed for the Golden Trio to function, but the truth is, he played no part whatsoever in the defeat of the Dark Lord," I continued bluntly, taking occasional sips of my coffee. I caught her opening her mouth to retort, and I shot her a look, effectively shutting her up in a heartbeat.

"And yet, Weasley would have been a brilliant Slytherin. He is fully aware of the fact that your heart still longs for him, and that you continue to love him. Until you show that weasel what the Brightest Witch of the Age is capable of, he will never stop. The fact that you came home crying is only proof of the power he holds over you. 'Mione, you're my best friend, my sister nearly. But you need to wake the hell up and look in the mirror. Half the male population of Hogwarts has been infatuated with you at some point. Hell, even adult men have been infatuated with you. I'm not going to name them all, but I can tell you that even Draco Malfoy has dreamt of you. Matter of fact, that was why he defected. They never approached you because they were afraid they would be burnt by the untameable fire," I stated, sliding off the counter in one fluid movement. Her mouth was hanging wide open, the mug slack in her hands. The silence in the room was deafening as I washed my cup and put it away, finally turning back around to her.

"Come on, Hermione. Let him go," I urged her, and her head snapped up instantaneously.

"I really wish you would've given me that speech sooner. It could have saved me a ton of trouble," she commented, dropping her cup unceremoniously into the sink.

"Genius reveals itself when it wants to," I replied scathingly, and she chuckled in response. "Now, I'd love to stay and chat, but the earlier I get to St. Mungo's, the greater my chances are of getting a good case," I told her.

"A case?" she asked, and I thought I spotted a smile crossing her face.

"I have practicals today! I told you that!" I yelled, opening the fridge door and violently hurling the chicken back in.

"And here I was, thinking you stabbed chickens for fun," she laughed merrily, and I launched forward, delivering a swift punch to her shoulder.

"I hate you!" I exclaimed, waving my hands for emphasis. However, she merely rolled her eyes and handed me my bag.

"You know you love me," she replied confidently, knowing full well I couldn't argue with that.

"Unfortunately," I stated, and she glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Good luck today. You'll do fine," she assured me and I bowed dramatically, slipping my coat on as I ran out the door.

Downtown London was mayhem in the morning. Buses bustled about, and pedestrians cluttered up the sidewalks. As per usual, a thick layer of fog clouded the streets, which in this part of town were lined with street vendors selling food, drink, and artefacts. I could full well apparate to the hospital, but I truly preferred walking there. Our apartment was conveniently located in the middle of our routes, so Hermione and I only had to walk several blocks in opposite directions to reach work. The November wind blew my dark locks off of my face, and I drew my jacket closer about my person. I silently thanked Hermione for insisting upon proper winter gear, even though I had seen no point in it. Warming Charms were so easy to perform, but she merely rolled her eyes, and pointed out that not even magic was infallible.

Fifteen minutes later, I reached the hospital, which towered over the sky ominously. To Muggles, it appeared to be a mere abandoned building, destroyed in a fire many years past. In truth, it was a spectacular building, and after it had gone through post-war renovations, it looked nothing less than majestic. A good majority of the building was now glass, though one could not see through it. On the inside, most was composed of metal or a dark hardwood, creating a modern and elegant appearance altogether. I checked my watch and saw that I had half an hour left before I had to report to Healer Amistad for the exam. Perfect.

The lockers were located in the middle of the building's reception office, which was packed even at this time of the day. During my first days, I cast continuous Glamour Charms upon myself, so no patients would avoid me because of my history. After my trial, and public pardon, that had no longer become necessary, and whilst I did receive scathing looks every so often, the person at the other end would swiftly be met with a hex or curse, generally the result of my compassionate co-workers. I had found a home, at last.

I changed into my green robes swiftly, and tied my hair off my face, before rushing off to the Emergency Ward. Though the most severe cases were now being given consent forms, in order to become our guinea pigs for the trial, the less severe cases were waiting patiently for a doctor.

"Good Morning, Hannah," I greeted the nurse cheerfully, and she grinned toothily, handing me a purple file.

"Third curtain to the left. Poor chap stuck his father's wand up his nose," she laughed silently, and I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"Am I the only child who hasn't done that? I'll check him out," I replied, seizing the file and striding purposefully into the room. The boy was sitting nervously on the bed, the wand halfway up his nose. His father was pacing nervously in front of him, mumbling incoherently about what seemed to be pancakes.

"Hello, there. My name is Healer Parkinson, and I'll be taking care of you this morning, Mr...Potter?" I looked at the file dubiously, before glancing at the father, who had his face buried in his hands. "Harry, is that you?" I asked, and he raised his eyes hesitantly.

"Pansy," he greeted, his voice heavy with worry, and I nodded, before proceeding to inspect the condition of the boy on the table.

"I'm James," the boy said happily, swinging his legs back and forth without care. He seemed greatly reassured by the fact that his father knew the doctor.

"Nice to meet you," I replied, taking a look at the wand in his nose. "Now, can you tell me why your father's wand is in your nose?" I asked him crossly, and he flushed bright pink, gulping nervously. His resemblance to Harry was fairly obvious, but he had not inherited the famously green eyes.

"I wanted to see the bubbles again," he answered sheepishly, and I turned to Harry, an eyebrow raised.

"They soothe him, especially when he won't go to bed. I just conjure bubbles," Harry stated indignantly, not glancing my way in the least.

"Well, the good news is, you'll be fine. But that wand is lodged in there pretty tight. I'm going to have to take it out," I told the young boy, and he nodded solemnly, as though someone had just told him his favourite dog would be taken from him.

"Mr. Potter, I'll have to have you sign a consent form, so I can anaesthetise his nose," I turned to Harry, whose head snapped up instantly at my words.

"Is that really necessary? Just pull it out!" he exclaimed and I sighed, pulling the form out of the clipboard.

"His cartilage has tightened around the foreign object considerably. If I just yank it out, as you suggest, I'd break his nose. The anaesthetic will relax said cartilage, and I can take it out from there," I explained patiently, and he wrung his hands through his hair.

"He's afraid of needles," Harry objected and I glanced at him quizzically.

"Umm, we don't use syringes here. A simple numbing charm will do the trick," I bit my lip and he nodded, signing the paper hurriedly.

"Alright then. Now, if you'll just look at your dad, I'll make your nose all better. This is going to feel a bit weird though, okay?" I inquired of the boy, and he smiled crookedly at Harry, who seemed to have lost all colour from his visage.

"_Anaesthetos,"_ I mumbled, tapping the bridge of his nose softly with my wand. He shuddered involuntarily and I couldn't help but smile at his antics.

"That's it. Now, I'm going to pull out the wand. Tell me if it hurts," I looked at James and he nodded, looking cross-eyed at his nose. In one swift motion, I pulled the wand from his nostril and he gasped, his eyes wide with amazement.

"I didn't feel anything!" he yelled, jumping off the table and into his dad's arms. Chuckling softly, I handed Harry his wand and crouched down so I was at eye-level with his son.

"This is for you," I whispered, pulling a lollipop out of my pocket. He laughed exuberantly and hugged me tightly, before skipping out of the room, holding the candy close to him.

"Thanks, Parkinson," Harry grunted, and I placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know that you're beyond busy with James, and Ginny leaving you, but I really hope you know better than what you showed last night. She's wrought with misery," I told him crossly, and he nodded, before glancing at me with teary eyes.

"You know, I loved her. I think I still do. But, how can you love two people who hurt each other so much?" he asked me, and I smiled, handing the clipboard to Hannah, and placing my pen in my pocket.

"You can't. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you'll have to choose," I replied simply and he chuckled bitterly.

"That's what Ron told me too," he confessed, and I widened my eyes.

"What does that tell you, Harry?" I questioned and he glanced at me, running a hand through his hair.

"That I'd better run to Hermione," he replied, his voice unwavering in its resolve.

"Don't you hurt her," I threatened, and his face fell considerably.

"I would't dream of it," he said, gathering James in his arms and walking out the doors.

_Could this day get any stranger?_

"ALL INTERNS PLEASE REPORT TO THE EMERGENCY WARD IMMEDIATELY!" a voice rang through the halls, and I gulped audibly. It was time.

The Ward was packed, the current Interns compressed together like sardines in a can. There were only 15 of us, but the Hall in front of the Ward was quite small in size. Healer Amistad stood ominously in front of the doors, his clear eyes roaming the crowds. They stopped only at mine, when he permitted himself a small smile of confidence, before dropping back into a scowl as he inspected the rest of us.

"Today is the day you will remember for the rest of your life," he began, his voice ringing through the halls like an executioner's verdict. "Those of you who are worthy will continue on to become Healers, while the rest of you will leave, never to return. For the past years, you have all been training for this moment. The first human life will be in your hands. Even for those of you who withstand this test, it is only the beginning. You will enter in groups of three, chosen randomly earlier today," he concluded, and I crossed my fingers behind my back, hoping to be first.

"The first three to hold the lives of another witch or wizard are: Richards, MacDonald and Parkinson," he announced grandly, and I couldn't breathe for excitement. Richards was brilliant in a classroom, but once faced with actual scenarios, he froze, whereas MacDonald acted on impulse. They were both worthy opponents and I stepped forward, my robes billowing behind me.

"The rest of you will remain here until one of these interns have finished. Don't even try to cheat, the room has been pored over with anti-cheating and apparation spells," Healer Amistad warned, gesturing for the three of us to enter the Ward. My heart was beating faster than it ever had, and I thanked myself for not finishing that mug of coffee this morning.

"Richards, you take the patient on the far right, MacDonald, the one in the middle, and Parkinson, your patient awaits on the far left," Healer Amistad instructed, and we nodded before he continued, "You will have no more than an hour for this examination, and you will not be judged by your expediency, but rather your quality of care. Best of luck."

We bowed quickly to him, in a sign of respect, before hurrying of to our respected areas. Taking one final breath, I placed a smile on my face and seized the clipboard, moving the curtain aside in one swift motion. My heart nearly stopped as I recognised the man inside.

"Theo?" I gasped, but the man did not respond. However, there was no way it could be anyone but him. His characteristic chestnut hair fell messily over his blue eyes, which were contracted in pain. I flipped the file open and read his report frantically, my eyes bulging as I realised what had happened to him.

"Hey, Doc," he groaned finally, trying to lean up and off the bed. Rolling my eyes, I placed my hands on either side of his shoulders, gently shoving him back down.

"Please remain laying, sir. Your condition does not allow you to remain upright at this time," I told him, off-handedly, and he chuckled, placing a hand over his eyes.

"You're telling me? That's rich," he stated bluntly, and I let my eyes roam over the extent of his injuries. Shards of glass were impaled on various parts of his body, and there was a deep gash above his left eye. I further noticed bruise marks around his throat, as though someone had tried to strangle him, and it seemed as though every breath he took hurt him.

"What circumstances caused you to sustain such injuries?" I asked him, and he removed his hand from his eyes. I could feel his eyes on my back, as I rummaged around in the cabinet for the suture kit.

"I know your voice," he replied simply, and I took a deep breath, turning around to face him fully.

"I'd be hurt if you hadn't, Theo," I pointed out, and his mouth fell open in awe.

"Pans?" he inquired and I shrugged, pulling a chair beside his bed.

"In the flesh, as it were," I said, placing the kit beside me and retrieving the Cleansing Potion, as well as the pliers.

"What are you doing here?" he asked me, and I shook my head in disbelief.

"You forgot everything about me, didn't you? I'm not surprised, you always had more on your mind that your poor best friend. I work here, Theo," I replied scathingly, noticing his flinch at my venomous words.

"I didn't forget!" he objected, and I cut him off, waving a scalpel in front of his face.

"Tell me what happened," I demanded and he blanched, before turning his head away from the wound I was currently treating.

"Not much to tell, really. I ran into Draco and some of his...viler friends. To make a long story short, they decided they were going to teach me the consequences of not adhering to my pureblood virtues," he spat, yelping slightly as I pulled out a particularly large shard from his leg.

"And they pushed you into a glass wall?" I gasped, and he turned his head towards me, locking his eyes with mine.

"Would it make a difference?" he asked, just as I finished stitching up the gash on his leg. The sutures were less than a millimetre apart, and I paused for a second to check my handiwork, before handing him a Blood-Replenishing Potion.

"Drink it, you'll need the strength. The thread is laced with Dittany, so you should be fine. At least, your cuts should be. I need to do a couple more examinations," I told him and he nodded, looking away from me once more. "And, Theo?" I asked him, making him turn towards me once again. "It does make a difference. I just need to know where," I said.

"They threw me through the walls of Ollivander's old shop. Or, my shop, as it is now," he replied, as I carefully extracted the rest of the shards from his chest. For a wand-maker, he was in surprisingly good shape, and I caught him noticing the expression on my face as I sutured his wound.

"See something you like, Parkinson?" he smirked, and I pulled harder than necessary on the thread, making him flinch as the wound tightened considerably.

"Not that it would make a difference to you, Nott, but perhaps," I replied, just as arrogantly, and he let out a sigh.

We sat there in silence for a while, Theo looking at me as I fixed his wounds with fervour, determined not to make one mistake, no matter how minuscule. The memories of our friendship flooded my mind, and I blushed feverishly, wondering if he had ever realised my true feelings. Hermione was right about one thing: I had loved Theodore Nott, and probably always would.

"I'm sorry for what happened at the end of eighth year," he said finally, and I gulped audibly, tying the ends of the thread together, so they wouldn't undo as he moved.

"Why apologise? You were just saying your beliefs," I stated, pulling a jar of congealed potion out of the bag.

"We both know that isn't true," he argued, gagging slightly as I opened the bottle. "What in the name of Merlin is that?" he exclaimed, and I chuckled slightly.

"It's a Circulation Draught, left for a while to congeal into a paste," I explained and he turned green.

"I think I can kiss my breakfast good-bye," he groaned and I bit my lip painfully.

"Daphne will be so disappointed," I mumbled, lathering the balm onto my hands and rubbing into his neck, where the bruises disappeared from underneath my fingers.

"She wouldn't give a crap," he spat, and I removed my hands from his neck, worried for his safety. My stomach was somersaulting wildly in my abdomen, and I thought it would burst from the hibernating butterflies that had just been awoken by his words.

"Pans, please listen to me," he begged, and I anxiously looked into his eyes. "I didn't mean anything of what I said that day. Truth is, it wasn't even me. Which explains why I'm here, actually," he admitted, and I cauterised the wound on his head with a flick of my wand.

"I'm listening," I said, checking his abdomen and torso for signs of internal bleeding.

"That day, Draco came to me, told me that he was going to force you into marrying him. I went mad, and attacked him, threatening him beyond the scope of what I could even do. Turns out that was his plan from the beginning. He knocked me out, and stole my hair to finish a Polyjuice Potion," he recalled, his mouth turned into a grimace that didn't quite suit his face.

"It wasn't you," I realised, and he nodded, a hopeful gleam returning to his eye.

"From then on, I knew I had lost you forever. I couldn't expect you to forgive me, and that's when Daphne came into the picture. She reminded me that you were gone, and told me that she would never leave. I was desperate, and I accepted," he breathed shallowly, and I felt my own butterflies die down yet again.

"After a while I figured out I had been an idiot. A right git, as a matter of fact. Whenever I held her, I thought of you. When I kissed her, I thought of you. It was driving me insane!" he exclaimed, and I pulled my wand out to remove the dry blood from his limbs.

"Then it hit me. I saw you, and only you, because I didn't love her. I loved you, and as crazy as it sounds, I still do. For years I've been trying to reach you, but I lost the courage whenever I thought of the look on your face after Draco told you all that rubbish," he confessed, seizing my hand in his.

"Pans, I know I've done nothing to deserve you. But to me, you're perfect. From that odd peppermint coffee you have in the morning, to your unnatural obsession with French Fries and Mayo, to your exuberant laugh and those beautiful eyes you hate so much. By Merlin, woman, I love you!" he yelled, and I clamped my hand down on his mouth, the tears flooding my eyes again.

"You do realise this is an exam, right?" I chastised him and he merely winked in response, removing my hand from his mouth, and leaning up so he could place a chaste kiss on my hand.

"Give me a chance. That's all I'm asking you. Give me chance to be the man you deserve," he pleaded and I placed my hand on the side of his face.

"Theo. You ridiculous, stupid, wonderful man. Yes," I whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead before walking out, feeling his gaze on me as I closed the curtain behind me.

"Sir," I acknowledged my mentor, who raised his eyebrow at me in amusement.

"I trust everything went perfectly?" he inquired and I nodded abashedly, a pink flush lighting my cheeks.

Suddenly, the curtain in front of Theo's bed was thrown open violently, and he strutted out, a smirk practically plastered onto his face.

"Just perfect. Thank you, Healer Parkinson. I look forward to tonight," he winked at me conspiratorially, placing a kiss on my cheek as he walked out, his shirt still sung over his shoulder.

Healer Amistad looked at me apprehensively, and let out a deep chuckle, running a wizened hand through his hair.

"You're gonna go far, kid," he told me, and I grinned at his face.

And I did.

**A/N: So, how'd I do? This is the first one-shot I've ever completed in the span of about 24 hours, which is fairly slow by Fanfiction standards, understandably. If you want a continuation, please just drop me a review, but I won't continue this story unless I receive 2-3 reviews in favour of it. Call me crazy, but I prefer consistent readers. There's really no need to call me crazy though, I already knew that. Please leave a review, flames and hugs are always welcome. Virtual homemade doughnuts to those that do leave a review. **


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